My Whole Expanse I Cannot See…

I feel dead inside, nothing feels good or beautiful. I want to feel like me again. I want to write again. I want things to feel warm and safe and pretty, nothing’s pretty. Nothing’s warm and safe.

Tattoo by Fish, Doc Dog's Las Vegas Tattoo, Ybor City

Tattoo by John, Doc Dog's Las Vegas Tattoo, Ybor City

I really don’t give a shit about explaining these, it doesn’t matter. I just want to post them with the rest before I go away.

So, just now I’m sitting in this coffee shop in Old Hyde Park, a trendier part of Tampa. It’s kind of overcast outside, it’ll probably rain sooner rather than later, and I’m trying to be creative. Trying to be creative. Failing to be creative. My head’s kind of a disaster, not that that’s anything new anymore. I’m surrounded by hip paintings of flowers and stylish shiny lamps, drinking a fuckin’ decaf soy almond latte, and none of it makes me feel anything good. Nothing feels good or beautiful, just hollow. Death Cab’s singing about following someone into the dark, and I’m – I don’t know.

Oh, hi…

No, I haven’t forgotten about this blog. Honestly, it’s one of my favorite things, it’s stupidly important to me. I remember when it was really pretty good, I wrote with a sort of crazy darkly optimistic abandon. I really wanted my thoughts put into words, put into pixels, it felt right, and good. Even if I was sad, I’d write the Hell out of that, and it was so sharp, and real, and kind of beautiful. People said it was beautiful. I miss that place so much, I just want to go back. I’m really very scared I can’t go back.

I almost know I can’t.

So, we twisted my arm at a really unfortunate angle on Thursday, and it hurts. A lot. It’s kind of the last thing I need  right now, last night was long, and bad. I’m exhausted.

So, this doesn’t work, I can’t not write. No matter how dead I feel inside, no matter how much I want to be holding someone tonight, every night, I have to keep writing.

I’m broken and gone and I don’t think I’m coming back. Thank you for reading, I tried to make this place something good. I’m sorry I failed.

Words can’t express how broken and empty and alone I feel right now.

I really don’t see any reason to write anymore.

My head is too muddled tonight, I can’t write. Fuck, so many things I can’t say.